


Offline

by Plastiktramps (boobearsloverhazza)



Category: IT (2017)
Genre: Its 4 am and I can't think of tags for this, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-27
Updated: 2018-06-27
Packaged: 2019-05-29 09:11:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15069932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boobearsloverhazza/pseuds/Plastiktramps
Summary: Wouldn’t that be creepy? Knowing that somebody was reading an email about whether or not somebody was reading your email?And also… Also, he hated to admit it but he kind of liked Beverly and Richie. As much as you can like somebody from reading their emails.The one where I shamelessly convert the YA novel Attachments into a gay fanfiction. You're welcome.





	Offline

**From: Beverly Marsh**

**To: Richie Tozier**

**Sent: Wed, 08/18/1999**

**9:06 AM**

**Subject: Where R U??**

Would it kill you to get here on time? I’m sitting in this stupid cubicle trying to piece together last night’s events and I don’t even have you to complain to. You’re probably sitting at home watching desperate housewives and chain smoking. Email me before you do ANYTHING else.

**< <Richie to Beverly>> ** It startles me how much energy you possess at this hour on a Monday. I feel like I got run over by an 18-wheeler. Then it reversed over my corpse, spun the tires a little, and parked. Make this quick though, I’ve got an ongoing bet with Bill that I can beat his high score in Pinball and today is gonna be the day.

**< <Beverly to Richie>>  ** I think I’m pregnant.

**< <Richie to Beverly>>  ** WHAT. Explain immediately.

**< <Beverly to Richie>> ** I got absolutely plastered this weekend.

**< <Richie to Beverly>> ** Ok I know we went to a small high school with a tight budget but even with our sex ed classes, you should know that this isn’t how pregnancy works.

**< <Beverly to Richie>> ** Hear me out! I was at this stupid frat party with Ben and Stan, and I’m pretty sure I was all over Ben the whole night. I made a total fool of myself, I’m sure. Plus, every time I have too much to drink, I start to feel pregnant. I never usually drink, and it would just figure that the one time I loosen up, I get knocked up. 

**< <Richie to Beverly>> ** For one, Ben would be ecstatic if you hooked up with him, and he also would have immediately called everyone he knows. I got no such phone call. 

**< <Beverly to Richie>> ** Three hours of weakness, and now I’m going to spend the rest of my life tending to the needs of a fetal alcoholic.

**< <Richie to Beverly>> ** Not an expert but I don’t think that’s what they’re called. 

**< <Beverly to Richie>> ** Everyone’s going to be able to tell too, and they’re going to judge me in Walmart and whisper “Look at that slut, she couldn’t put down the Mike’s hard for 9 months? Pathetic.”

**< <Richie to Beverly>> ** the real issue here is that you drink Mike’s Hard Lemonade. 

**< <Beverly to Richie>> ** It’s actually super refreshing.

**< <Richie to Beverly>> ** I can guarantee you’re not preggers. 

**< <Beverly to Richie>> ** I am!

**< <Richie to Beverly>> ** If you really think so, I’ll watch you piss on a stick, but I just want you to know that it’s my least favorite responsibility as your only gay friend. 

**< <Beverly to Richie>>** Great. We can also get either celebratory or mournful coffee after. 

**< <Richie to Beverly>> ** If you’re pregnant, say goodbye to coffee!

**< <Beverly to Richie>> ** NO!

 

\---

“Eddie, honey, you look terrible! Are you sick again?”

“Thanks, mom. I really appreciate that.” He’s sure she wasn’t completely wrong. He hadn’t looked in the mirror yet. Nor was he really planning to. He ran his fingers through his tangled nest of hair, willing it to look somewhat presentable. Not that anybody would see it. 

“Seriously, look at you! You’re not going into work like that, are you?” she asked, worry covering her face. She was a step away from pinching his cheeks. He stepped away instinctively, Smoothing his polo down and glancing in the hall mirror. The bags under his eyes were tragic, and his hair was a lost cause. He probably should have combed it after getting out of the shower that night. He sighed.

“Not like anybody’s going to see me,” he said absently. His mother clicked her tongue in disapproval. 

“I really don’t like that they’ve got you shoved in the basement like that. The mold is probably already in your lungs,” she muttered, handing him a paper bag- she still packed him a lunch. 

“They don’t want me upstairs because I might run into other employees. If I make friends there, I could be biased and not turn somebody in when I should have,” he explained for around the eightieth time. 

“I still don’t like the idea of you reading everyone’s email. That shouldn’t be someone’s job,” she said. He sighed, pulling on his coat to leave.

“Someone has to do it. For this company, it’s me.” 

“I don’t know if I could work at a company that’s lurking in my thoughts like that.”

“I’m not in their thoughts. I’m on their computers. In their emails. Everyone knows they’re being monitored. It’s not like I’m in the NSA.” he didn’t know why he tried to reason with her, she had never seen an email. 

Eddie’s cubicle was in the basement, with the rest of the IT department. Unlike the rest of them though, Eddie didn’t make frequent trips up to reboot a server or sort out a faulty printer upstairs. He sat at his desk and pored over countless emails. Most of them were mind-numbing, and Eddie only read far enough to make sure nothing was inappropriate. Well, except for a certain few. 

 

\---

 

**From: Richie Tozier**

**To: Beverly Marsh**

**Sent: Fri, 08/20/1999**

**10:38 AM**

**Subject: I hate to ask but,**

Are we officially done pretending you’re knocked up?

**< <Beverly to Richie>> ** Not for 40 weeks. Or maybe 38 by now! Should I name it after you? Richard for a boy and Regina for a girl.

**< <Richie to Beverly>> ** I just puked in my mouth a little. Can we not talk about other things?

**< <Beverly to Richie>> ** By all means, let’s. I’m trying not to think about it. 

**< <Richie to Beverly>> ** Well, let’s talk about my problems instead. I just got an invite to my cousin's wedding. She’s 20! Hardly old enough to rent a hotel and she’s landed a ring. I can’t even get a guy to call back. Not to mention the guy is a TOTAL tool. He has a frat tattoo. He has probably shotgunned more beers than I could ever imagine if his gut is anything to go by. Maybe I just need to lower my standards.

**< <Beverly to Richie>> ** Whatever happened to that guy from the bar?

**< <Richie to Beverly>> ** He told me he needed to focus on his art. Can you believe that! I’m no exaggeration the BEST he’ll ever do. He will NEVER receive better head. GUARANTEED.

**< <Beverly to Richie>> ** Maybe you should try to find a guy outside of a boozed upsetting. 

**< <Richie to Beverly>> ** Maybe I’m destined to be alone forever, aside from the occasional starving artist trying to get in my pants only to drop me as soon as I suggest we go see a movie together. Who am I supposed to see matinees with?

**< <Beverly to Richie>> ** At least you’re not pregnant. 

**< <Richie to Beverly>> ** …...

 

\---

For the record, Eddie never would have accepted the job if the listing had said:    
“WANTED: someone to snoop on employee emails.” the ad had actually said “Full-time opportunity for internet security officer. $40k+ Health, dental.”

Eddie scoffed at the memory.  _ Internet security officer. _ He had imagined setting up firewalls or fighting off viruses. Instead, he just felt like a major creep. Not sending out a memo every time somebody in accounting sent a dirty joke to the person in the cubicle next to them.

“Eddie! Lookin fresh. Exciting weekend?” Stan had said from his desk in the basement. Stan was their head of IT, along with Mike. They took care of all manual fixes. 

“You could say that,” Eddie replied, setting down his messenger bag. It was a total lie, he hadn’t done anything that weekend. Perks of having no friends. 

“Well get to work. I’m sure you have an ample amount of stupid E-cards to sift through. I hate the internet.” Stan grumbled, sipping coffee from his mug. The landline trilled sharply, stan snatching it up with a sigh. 

“Hello, IT...Mhm...Have you tried turning it off and on again?... Yeah. The button on the side. Mhm... Yep. should be a blue light. Yeah. Thanks.” he slammed the phone down, chugging the contents of his mug. “It’s gonna be a long one, Ed.”

When Eddie started at The Courier, they were just making the internet available to all employees. The company was old fashioned and reluctant to lose productivity. Now instead of coming into work and staying on task, employees were working part-time, watching viral videos for the rest. 

The world was changing though, and people wanted to email in their letters to the editor, not mail them. Even third graders and senior citizens were going digital. So the company gave in, assigning every employee a designated email. If you asked them, it was going perfectly. To upper management, it was a total disaster. 

Thus, Eddie was hired. Every search, every email, every word typed on their servers, went to him. Dozens of potentially illicit emails were forwarded to him, and he had to read every single one of them. He felt weird about it like he was eavesdropping or something. He wasn’t the type of person that liked to snoop. He was sure this job would be perfect for his ex, he used to always report to him what kind of meds were in their friend's cabinets after they left. Eddie didn’t even like using other people’s bathrooms. Too many germs. 

\---

 

**From: Beverly Marsh**

**To: Richie Tozier**

**Sent: Wed, 08/25/1999**

**10:33 AM**

**Subject: This is not a drill**

It’s here! We can return to our regularly scheduled programming.

**< <Richie to Beverly>> ** What’s here, exactly.

**< <Beverly to Richie>> ** You know, that thing that tells me if I’m pregnant or not. Mother nature’s curse….

**< <Richie to Beverly>> ** ohhhhhhhh, gross lol.

**< <Richie to Beverly>> ** but congrats! Not that I was convinced you got laid or anything. 

**< <Beverly to Richie>> ** Jesus, I was trying to be subtle.  I didn’t want to get one of those red flag things. 

**< <Richie to Beverly>> ** I doubt menstruation is on their list of flagged words. 

**< <Beverly to Richie>> ** So you aren’t even a little worried?

**< <Richie to Beverly>> ** about what? Your period? Surprisingly enough I remain unaffected by it. 

**< <Beverly to Richie>> ** No, I’m talking about that memo we got. The one about not sending personal emails? We could be fired!

**< <Richie to Beverly>> ** Am I worried that the dudes from Tron are reading our emails? Uh, no. They’re worried about pervs watching porn at their desks, not our hot gossip.

**< <Beverly to Richie>> ** THOSE ARE PROBABLY ALL RED FLAGS! Ugh, you have no self-preservation. 

**< <Richie to Beverly>> ** So what? Let them read! See if I care! I’m a journalist, a warrior of free speech. I’ll be damned if some robot takes that away! Come at me, Tron!

**< <Beverly to Richie>> ** What freedom of speech, the right to give Billy Madison five stars?

**< <Richie to Beverly>> ** You wound me, Bev. I wasn’t always a jaded movie critic. I had dreams, aspirations even. Furthermore, I would have given Billy Madison six stars if I could. 

**< <Beverly to Richie>> ** Isn’t weird knowing someone’s reading this though? Do you think they care about my pregnancy?

**< <Richie to Beverly>> ** Maybe they’re hot?

**< <Beverly to Richie>> ** Perv. 

 

\---

Beverly Marsh, according to the company directory, was a Features copy editor. 

Richie Tozier, Eddie knew. Well, in a way. He had read his movie reviews. He was funny, and Eddie usually agreed with him. He was the only reason Eddie had left his house to catch a movie on the weekends.

By the time Eddie realized he hadn’t sent a warning to Beverly and Richie- after who knew how many offenses, three? Half a dozen?-he couldn’t remember why not. 

Maybe because he couldn’t put a finger on what rule they were breaking. Maybe because their conversations were harmless and funny. They seemed nice.

But Eddie definitely couldn’t send a warning now, not when they were actively worried about getting one. Wouldn’t that be creepy? Knowing that somebody was reading an email about whether or not somebody was reading your email?

Eddie also didn’t want to be the bad guy from Tron. 

And also… Also, he hated to admit it but he kind of  _ liked  _ Beverly and Richie. As much as you can like somebody from reading their emails. He trashed the emails and packed up for the evening. 

“ You know, you don’t have to pack me a lunch, Mom,” Eddie told his mother. She scoffed.    
“You stay in my house, you eat my food. That’s that,” she said. 

Eddie didn’t hate living at home. There were definite perks, he was able to save up his money, but with that came his mother. There are degrees of living with your mother, and having her still pack his lunch in the morning was waaaaay too many degrees. 

“Besides. I’m worried about how much you’re eating. You don’t go outside enough as is, so pale..” 

“I do go outside, actually.” 

“Not when you’re cooped up in a basement all day. No windows!”

“Okay.” he couldn’t think of a time he’d started an argument with her and won. He drowned out her squawks of indignation as he trudged out the door once more. 

Stan was waiting for him when he got in, happily letting him know that he had come up with a project for Eddie. Compressing all of the companies files. It was busy work, but work that would take him all day. 

“Isn’t it kind of pointless?” Eddie argued, logging into his computer. 

“I thought that’s what you wanted! You’re always complaining that you don’t have enough to do,” he said. Eddie didn’t have much to say to that. 

He ended up staying later than he usually did, past the time most employees headed out. His eyes were burning from looking at his screen for so long, and he felt his stomach growl. He looked over at his bag. He could close everything down and sneak up to the break room to use their microwave. Most of them should be gone by now. 

Eddie could see the sun setting in the breakroom windows, thinking back on his mother’s comments that morning. Maybe he did need to spend more time outside. 

He thought about just taking his food and eating it on the way home, but the orange chicken wasn’t exactly finger-food, and he was enjoying the view, so he sat in the corner and dug in.

Two people walked in then, two men. They were arguing about something. Amicably. 

“Oh come on. Give our readers some credit!” the taller man said, wagging a rolled up comics section at the other man and leaning up against the coffee machine. 

“I can’t,” he said. “I’ve met too many of them.” 

The two men looked like they worked at completely different establishments, one of them wearing a dingy white button down and a thick brown tie. He looked like he hadn’t slept in years. The other was younger, Incredibly tall with mischievous eyes and a mop of chocolate curls spilling down to his shoulders. He was almost too pretty to look at.

He tried not to look, not wanting to risk accidental eye contact. He hated that feeling- at the bank, in elevators- when you inadvertently catch someone’s eye, and they feel compelled to show you they’re not interested. He felt compelled to let the women know sometimes, that he wasn’t either. 

The taller man laughed, and it was almost a giggle. He shook his head.

“You’re a dick,” he said. 

“Coming from the biggest I know, that’s an honor.” the other man laughed. They were so preoccupied with their argument, Eddie felt like it was almost safe to watch him. He was wearing tight jeans that made them look even longer, and a white shirt with a slightly obnoxious Hawaiian shirt slung over. He looked more like he was about to do a photoshoot than go to work here. He rested his arms over his head and Eddie could see his shirt slide up at the edge, a sliver of pale skin peeking out. He looked back down, feeling his face heat up a little. 

It’s not like he was completely incompetent around people he was attracted to. He had dated guys before, stood in front of them at concerts and felt their hands roam over him in the crowd, feeling scandalized by such public intimacy. He had taken people out on dates. He just couldn’t get past that stage. He couldn’t see himself spending 90% of his time with someone. He let out a small sigh. Maybe he’d never have that. He glanced up at the coffee machine again. The tall man was already gone. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> lemme know if this is bad, I'm sleep deprived and I just love these gays so much


End file.
